


to recover from all of the damage

by hot_leaf_juice



Series: what they did to your face [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e16 The Southern Raiders, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, in which katara is still rightfully pissed at zuko and eventually forgives him, obligatory 'katara learns how zuko got his scar', platonic zutara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24142696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hot_leaf_juice/pseuds/hot_leaf_juice
Summary: “What happened to you?” She didn’t ask him but rather ordered an explanation. She didn’t need to clarify what she was talking about.The former prince faced Katara, still reeling from the realization that no, she didn’t know what had happened to him like he assumed she and the others always had. “I thought you knew,” he admitted to her.Katara’s hard expression didn’t waver, “it’s not like you ever told us.”(or, Katara finds out how Zuko got his scar)
Relationships: Katara & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: what they did to your face [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732372
Comments: 89
Kudos: 3791





	to recover from all of the damage

**Author's Note:**

> title from Up The Wolves by The Mountain Goats

People of the four nations carried pain differently. 

The Air nomads had accepted pain as a part of life and welcomed it without letting it wreck their spirits. Hurt was a thing that could flow freely and loudly with no judgment or pity for the injured, rather a recognition that this matter was one of the physical world and it would pass. The sting of loss was proof of great love, love that was cyclic, reoccurring. What the airbenders believed was that the soul could not be damaged, no matter how high and destructive Sozin’s fire reigned or how many lives were lost. The last airbender carried this notion as he walked through the once populated chambers of the Western Temple. He tried not to dwell on what was lost and let the soul of his people flow through his laughter and sought out love to balance out the ones he had lost. 

The people of the water tribes learned to adapt to their pain. They did not forget and they did not pretend as if they had not suffered. Generations of waterbenders had been wiped out, carried away in chains and left to rot away, but those left behind did not waste away. Sons of slaughtered healers and warriors remembered those they had lost and screamed their names in battle. Water was the element of healing, but part of healing was gaining immunity. They did not drown in their pain, they absorbed it and channeled it out in tsunamis. With every attack inflicted and with every life lost, the people of the water tribe found new strengths. Mistakes were not made twice. Faces of those who had killed and devastated their people were not forgotten. A soldier could kill a woman and her husband and children would lead armies in her name. A man could kill the moon and the ocean would come back and defeat his entire fleet. 

The people of the Earth Kingdom faced their pain with unfiltered eyes and a determination to move through it rather than dwell on it. They learned that whatever was thrown at them they had the ability to stand up and keep fighting so long as they stood on solid ground. The Earth Kingdom had endured centuries of conquerors and tyrants. Through cuts and bruises and countless battles, they were stubborn and stood their ground. Men would fall, their sons would come to take their place, and those who had struck them down didn’t win in the end. No matter what, no matter how many around them died or how damaged their bodies were, they kept fighting because their kingdom was worth fighting for. When their walls were hit, earthbenders didn’t remorse for the damage done: they built new barriers, stronger than the previous. If they were standing and breathing, whatever condition otherwise, the people of the Earth Kingdom kept fighting.

And people of the Fire Nation were taught that pain was to be visible, one’s suffering was for the world to see and judge. Because the fact was that fire burned and fire scarred. Sure, they could heal and they could survive, but their pain was to remain visible. There was no moving past it or adapting to it or facing it with no fear because the visual reminder was there to stay: so they avoided it. There was no glory in getting burned. There was no pride in wearing stripes of damaged skin. Fire, in the eyes of the warring nation, was a weapon one was either strong enough to wield or weak enough to succumb to. One’s skin showed their strength, their worthiness of the element. Pain equated to loss, and there was no place for such a thing in a people fueled by victory. There was no honor in suffering. The most that could be made of pain was using it as fuel for new flames. This was a lesson the former Crowned Prince learned far too early in life. 

His Uncle had told him that  fire was the element of power. The people of the Fire Nation achieved what they wanted from unrelenting willpower. If they wanted a city, they threw siege until it was conquered. If they wanted to kill, their enemy was as good as dead. And if they wanted to truly break someone, they branded them, forcing those weak and cowardly to carry their shame on their flesh. 

And that was one of the many very wrong things Zuko was trying to discredit. His journey as a refugee had shattered all the propaganda he had been fed in his youth. He had seen no greatness spread, only terror for the sake of terror, and the shame of his nation was based upon violence he had once seen as power. It had taken the prince too many years to realize the dishonor he wore on his face was not his own, but that of the man who had made the mark. 

The senseless cruelty his family had ordered upon the world was evident in the stories and faces of too many innocents. The girl Song, with scars on her legs to match the one on his face. The kid Lee and his family who had shown him kindness had been torn apart, ruined by Zuko’s own nation. Countless refugees on the boats headed to Ba Sing Se, a crowd which the scarred boy blended in too well with and the feature he had thought for sure would reveal his identity had been recognized as normal by those suffering masses. An earthbender named Haru, not much older than Zuko, had been briefly imprisoned over an ability he couldn’t control and had been separated from his father for years for the same reason. A kid who called himself The Duke had no memory of his parents and had known no home in his life. Everyone was forced to become an outcast. Everyone had lost. 

And Zuko knew he was to blame for some of that suffering. He regretted his ambush of the defenseless Southern Water Tribe. He regretted the destruction and devastation he had selfishly reigned on Kyoshi Island. He regretted carrying Aang through a frozen wasteland while Zhao’s forces raged through the Northern Water Tribe. He regretted the lies he had told and things he had stolen from kind people who didn’t deserve it. He regretted most of all, his stupid, naive decision to ignore his Uncle’s words and join Azula in taking Ba Sing Se. 

Katara’s words in the crystal catacombs still rang in Zuko’s ears. 

“ _ You’re a terrible person, you know that? Always following us, trying to capture the Avatar. The world’s last hope for peace! But what do you care? You’re the Fire Lord’s son. Spreading war and violence and hatred is in your blood.”  _

He prayed to Agni that she was wrong, that he could prove her wrong and do right by his Uncle. 

So it was on the night of Katara and Sokka’s reunion with Hakoda after their escape from the Boiling Rock that Zuko hoped, watching Katara run to her father and him protectively wrapping his arms around both of his children, that he had started to make amends with the water tribe siblings. Sokka had decided that Zuko had earned his trust. After all, there are some things in life you can’t go through with another person and not come out of with at least some sense of respect and recognition, and breaking someone’s father and girlfriend out of a top-security prison happened to be one of those things. Sokka hadn’t hesitated to convince Suki and Hakoda that Zuko was worthy of fighting alongside and after years of struggling to prove to those who looked down on him that he was worthy of  _ something,  _ he couldn’t help enjoying this new unquestioned acceptance. But that acceptance only came from Sokka. 

Zuko was still  _ “the Fire Lord’s son.”  _ Just because he had joined their group didn’t mean his past actions had been erased and it didn’t mean he had no ties to the dynasty that had spent a century wiping out the air nomads and southern water benders and destroyed the lives of too many. Someone had to bear the burden of that legacy and Zuko knew it had to be him. He would carry the legacy of his family and shape it into something honorable before it was beyond repair. That repair had to start with Aang, Sokka, and Katara. 

He couldn’t bring back the Air nomads. He couldn’t bring back the waterbenders, He couldn’t bring Sokka and Katara’s mother back, but he needed to make things right and prove that he was not his father’s son, which is how he ended up bringing Katara face to face with the man who had taken her mother’s life. 

Zuko knew Katara was a powerful waterbender. He had respected her as a worthy opponent. He had envied her for her prodigal bending abilities. He had thoroughly believed her threat on his first day at the temple. And that day he would admit that he had been terrified of Katara as he watched her control full-grown men from the inside, bending their blood to her rage. 

The two teenagers were surrounded by rain and lightning as the waterbender towered over the old, pathetic man. 

“She lied to you.” Katara’s voice had the same gravity it had when she had threatened him a few weeks back. “She was protecting the last waterbender.” 

“What? Who?” 

Katara shot daggers through her eyes as the man had the audacity to ask her that question. “Me!” 

The sparks in the sky and the way Katara’s eyes had void any notion of empathy made Zuko think of his own sister. He had previously doubted her ability to get complete revenge on the man who had taken her mother but in the moment when the rain halted to a stop and rapidly domed around the scene, Zuko had no doubt this man would suffer at her hands. The daggers in her eyes translated to the water above them, freezing into sharp blades and darting right at-- 

Then it stopped. The ice melted onto her mother’s murderer, not making a difference as he was already soaked from the rain. 

“I did a bad thing, I know I did. And you deserve revenge.” groveled the man, “So why don’t you take my mother? That would be fair.” 

Zuko remembered Azula’s mocking words the night before their mother had disappeared. 

“ _ You must learn the pain of losing a first-born son by sacrificing your own.”  _

Katara avoided eye contact with the man she had just spared. “I always wondered what kind of person could do such a thing,” she looked up, “but now that I see you I understand. There’s just nothing inside you. Nothing at all. You’re pathetic and sad and empty.” 

Her annunciation of each syllable as she spelled out the old man’s faults and the fear in his eyes as he whimpered “please, spare me,” again reminded Zuko of Azula, a resemblance that was broken when she let her guard down and confessed, “but as much as I hate you, I just can’t do it.” 

Katara walked away. Her mother’s killer was defeated, crying in the rain. Zuko wanted to kick in his face. He wished the lightning flashing above would come closer so he could finish the mission. There had been days after Ursa had disappeared where Zuko had believed she was dead, that she had been killed, and swore he would do the same thing to her killer as he expected Katara to do to the man that now whimpered in the rain. That wasn’t a pain anyone deserved. Someone couldn’t just take the one person who  _ unconditionally  _ cares about you. No one had that fucking right. That love was precious. That love was irreplaceable. 

But Zuko knew this wasn’t his fight. This was Katara’s fight, and he would respect her decision to spare the worthless man. 

He trailed a couple of steps behind Katara as they made their return to Appa, but when they finally reached the bison Katara didn’t immediately climb on. She stood still, fist still clenched tight. She was rigid and her anger seeped into her surroundings as raindrops didn’t dare touch her, falling at an angle to miss hitting her. Zuko recalled the previous night when that guard’s body had contorted and convulsed against his own will. 

Katara broke down and Zuko had no idea what to do. 

It had been his idea to bring her to this act of vengeance and while he had his doubts she would be able to follow through, he didn’t expect her to end the mission sobbing. Ozai, no matter how much suffering he had put Zuko through, was not destined to be defeated at his son’s hands, but there was a more honest part of Zuko that knew if he had had Katara’s opportunity things would have gone differently. That fact wasn’t rooted in a need for violence but was rooted in the truth that some people didn’t deserve mercy. 

Katara was still turned away from the former prince as she cried. She was angry. She was angry that after so many years the man who had killed her mother hadn’t spent the years repenting the action. She was angry that he was pathetic and cowardly. She was angry that he didn’t actually care about the suffering he had put her through, though she knew that it would have been an insult to injury if he had. But she didn’t know whether or not to be angry at herself for not going through with it, whatever  _ it  _ could have been. 

Zuko wasn’t good with people when they were distraught and was grateful that, for as much as he had had to endure in his life, that he had seldom been responsible for alleviating the emotional distress of others. He had been surrounded by strong and unfeeling people who didn’t need him the same way he needed them. But he knew that what Katara needed was space, so he gave it to her. He took a seat on the muddy ground and silently witnessed his former adversary work through her turmoil until she was calm. By that point, the rain had reduced to a bearable drizzle and Katara finally spoke, “I don’t want to go back to the others.” 

Zuko stood up and tried to wipe some of the mud off of his pants before walking closer. He followed her as she climbed onto Appa and tried to figure out what to do as she made no move to the bison’s head, instead sitting frozen, rage still flooding her eyes. Zuko knew they would need to start flying before the rain picked up again and grabbed the map to figure out a solution. He studied their route before deciding on a plan. “I know somewhere you can be alone, if you don’t want to go back.” Katara didn’t change her expression and gave permission through a tiny nod. 

Staring over the sky bison, Katara remained silent on the ride to Ember Island. They had only been gone for a day, but Zuko knew they would need to regroup with the others as soon as they could and decided that if they were trying to evade Azula, Ember Island was probably the place to do it, but the regrouping could wait. He focused on steering Appa in the right direction, thankful that the bison had been the first member of Team Avatar that had trusted him. The Fire Lord’s old vacation house was not difficult to reach and after a few short hours, they landed in the spacious courtyard. 

“My family used to come here a long time ago,” Zuko explained as Katara eyed the area with suspicion before making a move to get off the saddle. “No one’s been here in years.” Katara remained silent as she grabbed her bag and jumped onto the ground, then followed Zuko into the house. 

The firebender inspected the walls and furniture for any sign of his family’s existence. He was pretty sure he had destroyed most of the incriminating pictures and memorabilia the last time he had broke into the house, but knew the last thing Katara needed to be greeted with was the Fire Lord’s picture or anything similar. 

Mostly he just didn’t want to be reminded of it himself. 

“My family might be a lot of things but sentimental isn’t one of them,” Zuko reassured as he chucked some discarded papers and wooden toys into the sitting room fireplace before setting them ablaze. She sat on the couch facing the pit and avoided eye contact. 

“He was so…” Katara’s voice remained as cold as it had been hours ago, “pathetic. I’m so angry with him for being so pathetic.” The firebender silently agreed. 

The firepit was continuously fed any object that had the personal touch of the royal family. Zuko walked around grabbing unsent letters, dolls a young Azula had neglected rather than destroyed, a traveling cloak that had belonged to Ozai, and any pictures indicating a complete family had once lived there. The four of them had probably spent only a few cumulative months at the vacation house as they had stopped coming after Ozai had assumed the throne, after Ursa had vanished, but it looked and felt like an actual home more than the lavish and impersonal halls of the palace ever did. He wondered if they had actually been normal or if he had just remembered it that way because he was young and didn’t know the person his father was and didn’t know the mess they would all become. 

His fixation on depersonalizing the estate distracted Zuko from Katara’s confused gaze following him around the room.

“What are you doing?” She finally asked, as Zuko burned what looked like playbills with intense apathy. 

“This is probably the safest place for us to be until the comet. I figured I’d make the place presentable.” 

Katara studied the items being eaten by the fire. Documents with the official fire nation insignia. A picture of Zuko and Azula posed beside each other, young enough to where no resentment had poisoned the siblings. A handwritten letter addressed to  _ “Ursa”.  _ She remembered Zuko once mentioned he had lost his mother too. 

He had to be judging her for not following through, Katara thought. He hadn’t said anything about it on the ride back but he had obviously wanted her to hurt the man. That’s what the whole mission had been about. He had wanted her to get over what the fire nation had done to her mother so she could forgive him, fuck that. Fuck him. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said quietly. He looked nervous. “You think I should have done it.” 

Zuko shook his head and faced the floor. “No, I think you made the right choice.” He gave her a sympathetic glance that boiled her blood. “I think you would have regretted it if you had done it.” 

“You don’t know anything about me.” Katara snapped back, which wasn’t true and they both knew it. In the weeks they had spent at the Western Air Temple he had watched her in her role as the group’s surrogate mother, fussing over Sokka for not doing dishes, mending rips in Toph’s clothes, and being fiercely protective of Aang. Zuko knew she could be dangerous if she wanted to and even if she didn’t act like it, she carried unbelievable rage. But she wasn’t ready to admit that and he had to wait until she was. 

Zuko closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before saying, “she was your mother and you shouldn’t have lost her.” Katara knew that already. “I would have wanted the chance to face him if it had been my mother.” Ah, so that was it. 

“You never told me what happened to your mother,” she said with an accusing tone she would have normally had the capacity to feel bad about. Zuko was crumpling up papers and trying to aim them into the middle of the pit from a distance. He didn’t respond and kept shooting until he was empty-handed and resigned himself to a spot at the end of the couch. 

“I guess I didn’t,” Zuko remarked, controlling the fire to a steady roar. Katara’s eyebrows furrowed and her expression hardened. 

“You said the fire nation took her away from you.” Zuko avoided her stare and concentrated on the burning toys and papers. There was still a hint of accusation in her voice. He had set the whole trip in motion. All of this was because of him. He didn’t get to keep his shit secret when he had witnessed her unleash six years’ worth of anger on a person she couldn’t put a face to for so long. 

In a pragmatic sense, Zuko had expected this conversation to come up, especially after he had initiated the mission, but he didn’t actually know what to say about what happened to Ursa, mostly because he still didn’t know what had happened. He didn’t know if he could trust anything Ozai had told him on the day of the eclipse and even if what his father said was true, he didn’t  _ want  _ to believe some parts of it. Zuko let out a resigned sigh before admitting, “I don’t know what happened to her.” 

“What, like you never met her?” From the evidence of now-ash family portraits and Ursa’s own letters, Katara knew it wasn’t that simple. 

“No, she was around,” he clarified, “until she wasn’t.” That didn’t clarify things at all. 

He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t  _ know how  _ to talk about it, but he figured he owed it to Katara after everything he had put her through that day and decided to start at the beginning, or at least where he assumed the beginning was. 

“I don’t know how much of what happened is true. It’s what my father told me,” He didn’t hide the bitterness in his voice, “but parts of it make sense.” 

“My Uncle had a son, Lu Ten and he died at war when I was nine.” Katara had no idea Iroh had had a son and her eyes widened in surprise. “After we heard about his passing my dad requested an audience with Fire Lord Azulon and I know this part happened since I listened in. He told the Fire Lord that since my Uncle didn’t have any more children that he should revoke Iroh’s birthright and claim him as his heir.” 

Katara contemplated the idea of Iroh being Fire Lord over Ozai and wondered if things could have been different if that had happened given what she knew about the man, or if it would have just been messier than it was now. 

“My grandfather was furious that he would ask him to betray my uncle after he lost his son,” and this was the part Zuko couldn’t know for certain but knew was probably true. He settled on a lighter version of the probable truth. “He said that my father would have to face the same pain as my uncle and harm would have to come to his firstborn son.” 

And that detail, Katara thought, was completely unbelievable, but she didn’t need an earthbender’s abilities to know that Zuko wasn’t lying. 

“I don’t know what happened after that but the last time I saw my mother she woke me up in the middle of the night and told me--” he decided to keep that part to himself, “goodbye.” 

This another part he didn’t want to believe. Ozai’s voice invaded his ears and echoed, “ _ your mother did vicious, treasonous things that night. She knew the consequences.”  _

“When I woke up she was gone, my grandfather had passed away in his sleep, and my father was named his heir as his dying wish.” He let the implication of the missing details speak for itself. 

While Katara didn’t know anything about the mysterious Fire Lady, she had tried in the past to guess what Zuko had meant when he told her the fire nation had also taken his mother. She guessed that his mother might have died in combat as she knew the fire nation allowed women to fight in the military. She might have died in a firebending accident. If she was being honest, she had always assumed that the Fire Lord had something to do with it. This, however, she didn’t know what to make of it. She didn’t know what a child in that position could make of it. 

Zuko recognized Katara’s confusion at the story. Her face was a mix of horror at the implication that his mother had killed the fire lord before Ozai, placing him on the throne, and understanding that yes, of course, the circumstances were that twisted for the world to be how it was. 

“The last time I saw my father he told me she could still be alive,” he turned his head to make brief eye contact with Katara before looking back at the floor, deciding to leave the story at that. And for all her motherly instincts, Katara was at a loss for words and silence followed. 

Katara removed the black fire nation disguise and set it over the side of the couch. Zuko folded his hands and rested his chin under his thumbs before speaking, “I’m sorry I put you through all that.” 

She had heard his apologies before about chasing them around the world and betraying them in Ba Sing Se, but she was tired and she was sick of hearing it. “I know,” she said, not even trying to sound reassuring, “you don’t need to keep apologizing for everything you did.” 

“No I’m sorry for putting you through everything today,” the firebender clarified and was met with a look of confusion that reverted back to grim contemplation. 

“You don’t need to apologize for that either,” she crossed her legs and brought her knees to her chest, “I’m glad I got to face him.” He didn’t ask her why she hadn’t hurt Yon Rha, but she tried to come up with an explanation anyway. 

She finally settled on, “he wasn’t worth it.” And she berated herself for not saying something along the lines of ‘I didn’t want to go down to his level’ or ‘violence isn’t the answer,’ which she knew was part of it. Part of it was Aang and her mother in the back of her mind reminding her of who she was. 

“Hm,” responded Zuko, fixating on the fireplace again. An irrational pang of anger shot through Katara. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. 

“I’m not over her,” Katara spat out. “I know you thought that this little field trip was going to make me forget what the fire nation did to me and that’d make everything okay between us, but  you’re wrong. I’m not over it.” 

“I don’t think you can be,” Zuko responded gravely. He of all people knew that catharsis was an imaginary concept, but the mission was all he could offer the waterbender to make up for months of damage. He stopped fixating on the flames, turned to the waterbender, and the two were finally having a conversation while looking at each other, “I don’t think you’re supposed to get over it.” 

“I don’t want to let it go,” she confessed. “I don’t want to forget her.” 

“You shouldn’t. She was your mother, she was important. Just because she’s not here doesn’t change that.” Zuko was thankful that Katara’s version of a mother was less complicated than the unknowing and amorality that surrounded the loss of his own. In a sick way, he envied her for having such a clear idea of who her mother was and what had happened, as tragic as it had been. He thought he might take tragedy over the not knowing. 

“For the longest time, I pictured him as this terrifying  _ thing  _ that couldn’t be stopped. I thought I would meet him and be stronger than him.” She paused and bitterly added, “and he was just  _ nobody.  _ He didn’t matter.” 

Zuko nodded in agreement. Katara’s voice cracked slightly, “it doesn’t feel better.” 

He nodded again and muttered, “I didn’t think it would.” Katara’s eyes flooded with fury. 

“Then what was the point of all of this? Why did you bring me to him?” she demanded, now screaming at him. 

“She was your mother. You deserved to know.” Katara couldn’t disagree with that. “And you shouldn’t feel bad about still hating him.” 

She knew he was right and she leaned her head back to stare at the wooden beams holding up the ceiling. Her life had been filled with people who had taken advantage of her kindness and people who had resented her for trying to help, but she had always found the ability to see them as people. Now, even though the man had grovelled at her feet, begging the fourteen-year-old to spare his life, she couldn’t find that ability. But she didn’t need Zuko to tell her how to feel. Not now. 

Katara stood up and towered over the former prince, “don’t tell me how I should feel,” his eyes widened as she yelled at him, “ _ you  _ don’t get to tell me how I feel.” Any veneer of calm Zuko had put on was broken with that comment. 

“I don’t know what you want from me!” He shot back. “You’re right. I made mistakes in the past but all I want to do now is help you all defeat the Fire Lord. I just want Aang to end this war. I’m on your side.” 

“Really? And what happened in Ba Sing Se? You could have helped us then and Aang almost died!” 

“I never wanted that!” Zuko yelled, desperate. 

“Well you should have thought about that before you joined your sister or before you sent an assassin after us. ” she turned her back to him, “You made your choice then. Why should anything be different now?” 

“I know what I did was wrong,” he was trying (and failing) to control his anger, “but it was the only chance I felt I had. If I could go back I would do things differently” 

“You had EVERY chance,” she screamed, “YOU decided to chase us around the world to what? Bring glory to the Fire Nation? To win the war? Well guess what, you did it. You succeeded. And you don’t get to go back and do things differently.” 

Zuko’s face scrunched and he bitterly shot back, “ _ I  _ decided to chase you around the world? Oh yeah, because that’s what I wanted to spend three years of my life doing. I didn’t have anything better to do than go on an impossible hunt for a person no one had seen for a hundred years and I definitely wanted to spend months on end chasing after a twelve-year-old.” Regret seeped back into his thoughts. No, he hadn’t wanted to chase them, but he couldn’t deny that he had put them in danger. 

“I didn’t want to hurt him I just…” he cut himself off. 

“What? Just what?” Katara demanded, turning back to face him, to show him just how much his decision had hurt her. He didn’t understand how it felt to see her best friend shot with lightning, to feel his heart actually stop. The hours where she didn’t know if Aang would survive after something so preventable, if she or anyone else had just stopped Azula from shooting lightning at him. That was a grief Zuko couldn’t possibly understand. 

Zuko’s anger dissipated and he responded quietly, “I just wanted to go home.”

At that moment Zuko didn’t look like the person who had commanded a fire nation ship to hunt them down for months, or the person who glared her down at the North Pole as he escaped with an unconscious Aang, or the person who had narrowly killed them when he chose Azula’s side in Ba Sing Se, and he didn’t even look like the person who had spent the last twenty-four hours guiding her through a vengeful manhunt. Katara observed the boy’s fixed grim expression and realized it was permanently set by his scar. But she didn’t understand. 

She blinked away some angry tears she hadn’t realized were building up, “what are you talking about?” She was no longer yelling. 

Zuko sighed. He knew that it wasn’t an excuse for everything he had done, but it was the truth and he owed Katara as much. “I couldn’t go home and Azula said I could come back if I helped her. I was desperate.” 

None of what he had said made sense to Katara and he realized that she didn’t know about his banishment as he had assumed she had for so long. Any anger he had let out at her vanished and was replaced with regret. Regret for his actions and for his unbelievable stupidity. Of course she didn’t know. 

Katara didn’t waver her glare, but her eyes trailed to the massive scar on the firebender’s face. 

_ He couldn’ _ _ t pinpoint the moment he had stopped screaming.  _

_ He distinctly remembered the moment when he had tried to stop crying. It was the moment where he realized that saltwater tears hitting what felt bloody (but his face couldn’t have blood on it because fire didn’t make you bleed and he knew that) tissue stung so unbelievably sharp. The spectators who had been eerily, mockingly silent during Ozai’s punishment were now moving and talking. He could see them out of the corner of one eye and had to turn his face to see the faces on the other side of the stage but didn’t remember what they looked like because all he could think of was the fact that  _ **_he couldn’t see out of his left eye._ **

_ Zuko was frozen on his knees. His hands gripped onto nothing but savored the cool marble. He faced the floor so any tears that came out would drip straight down and not run down the fresh burn, but everything stung. The hair near where Ozai had burned him was singing. Puss was angrily escaping his cheek. At some point, the vision in his right eye failed him and the last thing he remembered seeing before being pulled off the stage by his Uncle was a puddle of tears mockingly decorating the stage of his disgrace.  _

Katara didn’t like looking at it. It was deep and spread across an entire half of his face and it just looked  _ painful. _ In the early days, she had initially internalized the image of Zuko’s scar as the “face of the enemy” and it brought her no pleasure to visualize it on the brink of danger. In the catacombs, he had let her touch the scar and she could see up close just how deep the threads of rough flesh wove and was astounded that a person could survive something like that. These days she could look at his face and her gaze wouldn’t linger to the left side, but it still made her uneasy because now she would think of just how bad the original burn must have been for the scar to be  _ that  _ bad. She remembered when Aang had accidentally burned her hands and not just the lingering sting of the burn itself had been awful, but the way her skin had become angry and irritated so quickly proved to be distressing itself. Waterbending, thankfully, had its perks. 

Zuko realized she was staring at the scar and decided to just let her look. There had been plenty of people who had taken their sweet time in studying it. Particularly nosy customers at Pao’s. The odd palace servant he caught being just conspicuous enough in their spying. Inmates at the prison who loudly wondered if he had lost or won the fight he had gotten the scar in and if that was the reason he was there in the first place. It always felt awkward for people to stare, but after three years, Zuko was past the point of caring. Yet, Katara was glaring at his face. No, not glaring, but there was no trace of comfort to be found in her eyes. 

“What  _ happened  _ to you?” She didn’t ask him but rather ordered an explanation. She didn’t need to clarify what she was talking about. 

The former prince faced Katara, still reeling from the realization that no, she didn’t know what had happened to him like he assumed she and the others always had. “I thought you knew,” he admitted to her. 

Katara’s hard expression didn’t waver, “it’s not like you ever told us.” 

Zuko wanted Katara to forgive him for the pain he had put her and her friends through in the last year. He wanted her to see his efforts to change and decide from what he had done that he was worthy of their team and friendship. He didn’t want her pity over what had been done to him. And this wasn’t like when Toph had asked about it because the earthbender had known the worst detail already. “It’s like you said, I’m the Fire Lord’s son.” 

He breathed in and out and let the fire grow and shrink with his rhythm just like Uncle had taught him back when he was thirteen and couldn’t light a match without it going out of control. 

“A few years ago my Uncle let me into a war meeting. He told me that I wasn’t supposed to speak at all but…” and  _ of course  _ he had to be thirteen and unafraid and stupid, “I insulted this General’s plan for something and…” he trailed off. He wondered what the point of having the worst day of his life be as public as it was if he had to keep telling people what happened. 

The level of worry in Katara’s eyes was high enough to piss him off. It had happened already. It had happened a long time ago. She was the one who had asked the question. 

“I had to defend my disrespect. I thought I was going to have to fight the general I had insulted but it was my father’s war room where the meeting had taken place and…” Zuko gestured to nothing in particular in an attempt not to say-- 

“It was your father.” 

“Yeah.” He hoped there was a mutual understanding that neither of them wanted to recount how a thirteen-year-old boy begged for his father’s forgiveness and was met with unspeakable cruelty. He didn’t want to be known for that in any capacity. The scar on his face told that part of the story on its own. 

“You once said that your scar was the ‘mark of a banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar forever,” Katara stated slowly, recalling the description for a significance she had previously ignored. “What did you mean by that?” 

“I chased you guys around the world for four months and you didn’t know why?” Zuko wasn’t attempting a joke (and knew that now wasn’t the best time for one) and was more so just baffled at the loss in translation between him and the team. All of that effort and they had thought he was just doing it for the sake of the Fire Nation. 

“Well you could have laid it out for us when you had us paralyzed with that giant mole,” Katara  _ did  _ joke, if only a little bit. 

“Right… well yeah,” telling her now just felt stupid, “I was banished after I dishonored myself at the match and my father said the only way I could return was if I captured the Avatar.” 

“But we didn’t find Aang until last year,” there was some of the indignance Zuko was expecting, “that doesn’t make any sense.” 

“I wasn’t expected to succeed.” He let himself be angry. He hadn’t let himself be angry at  _ Ozai  _ for the incident and was trying to tell himself, these days, that that was an anger he was allowed to feel. After all his years squandering his loyalty with the man, Zuko had decided he would now spare nothing but contempt for his father. 

“How old were you?” Katara’s voice was quiet and deadly. 

“Thirteen.” Zuko didn’t know how young thirteen was in the water tribe. He really didn’t think it mattered as Aang and Toph were younger than he had been at the time and had more guts and skills then he could have ever thought a human could contain. It must be young enough, he assumed, as Katara was visibly horrified. 

Katara was giving him one of those looks, one of the ones Earth Kingdom refugees had given him as they assigned him a story of suffering at the hands of the Fire Nation, and Zuko figured they were basically right. But the look Katara was giving him wasn’t just pity or horror, it was guilt. Zuko didn’t understand where that was coming from because he wasn’t the one questioning why she had never thought to ask and why she hadn’t guessed as much with the way he said “ _ Fire Lord”  _ with no veil to hide his hatred or the way he stiffened up whenever Hakoda was around back at the temple or the fact that he had a  _ giant hand-shaped scar on his face.  _ Too many connections were made at the same time and they all came to the same horrific conclusion. She was angry, but she wasn’t just angry for Zuko. 

“Why did you go back to him?” He knew she was referring to Ba Sing Se. He had been honest so far. 

“Because I was stupid,” he confessed. “Because I wanted him to be proud of me.” Azula’s claim that “ _ you will have father’s love”  _ still taunted him. 

“That’s not stupid,” Katara reassured him and she had to admit to herself that she didn’t understand and didn’t ever think she would. She didn’t understand how a parent could be so cruel to their child and she didn’t understand how that child could have the capacity to still love that parent. 

“It’s pretty stupid,” Zuko affirmed.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, still processing the revelation. "I can't imagine how painful that must have been." 

"You don't need to apologize for anything, Katara." She was patronizing him with her sympathy.  He wanted to change topics. “I never got a chance to thank you for offering to heal it.” 

This caught Katara by surprise as she had almost forgotten the incident up until the topic of the mark had come up. “Thank you.” 

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Katara offered, although they both knew that had Zuko made a different decision in the catacombs, they might not have had to use the spirit water on Aang’s wounds. They were both thankful that the Avatar lived another day closer to defeating the Fire Lord. 

“I’m not sure how much it could have done, Aang still has his scar.” Zuko reasoned. He had given up on the idea of spirit water after learning that even with its use the Avatar still wore his sister’s work on his back. 

“I guess you’re right.” 

Sometimes in his dreams, the scar was gone from his face. Sometimes when he was asleep he could be this other person who didn’t wear the signature of his father’s hatred of him on his face for the world to see. Zuko never recognized himself in these dreams. When he saw pictures of himself when he was younger he couldn’t help but wonder where the  _ real  _ pictures were. That kid wasn’t him. That kid had his mom around. That kid’s dad hadn’t tried to kill him. That kid’s sister wasn’t lost to their father’s propaganda. He had become a different person in that arena and it wasn’t his choice. 

“I spent a lot of time traveling and I started seeing what people were going through,” he looked at the ground and exhaled, “what my country had put them through.” He knew he didn’t need to explain what suffering was to Katara, not after the last twenty-four hours. “There was this one kid who’s brother was fighting in the army and was taken by fire nation troops. His dad left to find his brother and these soldiers almost took him away to put him in the army.” Another thing that he could have prevented if he had not given Lee that knife in the first place, he thought. 

The fire started to die down. 

“There are people who are being hurt, kids and moms, for no other reason than my father wanting destruction.” And that was the truth he had, of course, been too short-sighted to realize. “It needs to end.” 

Zuko looked to Katara, not so much searching for acceptance, but hoping that he had shown her that he understood. It was the truth. The Fire Nation, the war, his father: it was all wrong and she had learned that when her mother had been killed while he had only come to terms with it that year. Whether she accepted him or not was her choice. He just hoped he had done enough. 

Katara allowed gratitude to sneak up on her and she felt that Closure just might be a real thing.

She was the type of person who would face armies by herself if it meant keeping the people she loved safe. She refused to be weak and she refused to give up, even when all the odds were stacked against her. She was fiercely protective of her family and would be there when they needed her no matter what. Zuko, she realized, wasn’t too different in those regards. 

Aang might have been right about forgiveness after all. 

And at that point, the sun started to rise. The two teenagers hadn’t realized how tired they were or how long their day had been. 

“I’m going to try and get some sleep, then I’ll go back and get the others.” Zuko offered. The fire died down as he stood up and tried to remember where he could find a bedroom. “You should get some rest, this place has a ton of rooms to choose from” And yeah, she knew he was right and she definitely should sleep because she hadn’t for a full day now.

Zuko opened a couple of cabinets before pulling out a dusty, yet soft blanket and walked over to drape it over Katara in a way she had seen her do for Sokka, Toph, and Aang. She ignored the idea of a bed and decided to lay down right there on the couch, deciding that she was thankful that Zuko had made his way to them: for their sake and his. 

**Author's Note:**

> wow this took longer than I thought it would 
> 
> not ~super~ jazzed at how it turned out but I might just be burned out, feedback is always appreciated! 
> 
> follow my Tumblr @nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice


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